


Day 10 -- Truth

by Flamebird38



Series: 31 Days of Apex [10]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: 31 Days of Apex (Apex Legends)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25198189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebird38/pseuds/Flamebird38
Summary: Bangalore finally learns the truth about what it's going to take to get back to Gridiron.
Series: 31 Days of Apex [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811551
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Day 10 -- Truth

“It's gonna cost me how much?” I practically shout at the man sitting across from me. He calls himself Rocco but I seriously doubt that’s his real name. He has a missing eye that is complemented by all of the other scars that litter his body. On his hand the smallest burn scar of the predator logo. A clear indication he was once a mercenary for the Syndicate. 

“I told you, 3 mil. No less. I figured a Legend like you wouldn’t have a problem trying to find that kind of money.” Rocco sits back in his chair, moving his salt and pepper hair out of his eyes. He smiles at me, teeth somehow completely straight and bright white. There’s no way he’s desperate for 3 million credits.

“I don’t understand. It should be 1.5 mil. And that’s the high side. You really think I don’t do my research?”

“Listen, Ms. Will—”

“ _Sergeant_.”

“Right, _Sergeant_ Williams,” he corrects himself, smirking at my hard tone, “this is a trip that will take twenty years if not more. You’re asking me to very well die in space for this. Of course I’ll be asking for 3 million credits.”

I feel my hands clench in my lap. I’ve participated in over 130 seasons of the Apex Games, and have been champion more times than this bonehead had scars on his body. It has taken me years of saving and trading the peanuts the Syndicate pays us to get a total of 1.5 million credits. At this rate, it’ll take me another seven years to save up to 3 mil.

“What about Jump Drive? I figured a seasoned mercenary would have something like that on his ship.” I lean back, raising my eyebrows. I know Jump Drive still exists because it's how that corset wearing thief gets around so quickly.

“Jump Drive tech that actually works is hard to come by. Mine broke long ago when all the others started going kaput.” He takes a long sip of this beer. “On top of that, it’s not like anyone knows how to fix something so old anymore. And even if I did have all of that, there are no more middle man fuel stations anymore. You know as well as I do what happened to Demeter.” He takes another swig of his beer, looking at me expectantly. Clearly, he’s trying to push buttons at this point. I don't know what his angle is, but it’s certainly not a good one.

I don’t even dignify his jab with a response. I just look down at my lap, at my clenched fists. I’ve researched so many pilots, asked even more if they’d be willing to meet and discuss the journey, but this was the only one who would meet. And now I’ve run into a firm and resounding “No.”

“But if you put yourself out there a little more, I’m sure you can make up the difference pretty quick. Or convince me to come down on the price…” Rocco leans forwards and grabs my knee under the table. It takes me seconds to realize what’s happening and even less time to react.

I snatch his wrist, locking his arm straight, standing, and twisting him around all at the same time. The small table we were sitting at clatters to the floor from getting turned over. I shove Rocco against the wall with a thud. The rest of the bar stops at the noise, all heads turning our way.

“You wanna try that again, Merc?”

“Oh, well look at this!” Rocco’s voice is suddenly louder so the whole establishment can hear. “Typical IMC, amiright? Thinkin’ they can just bully around whoever they want. I mention Demeter once and I’m considered an enemy? Pft.”

I let go of the scumbag when a few of the more burly patrons start to make their way towards me. Others are shouting obscenities at me, a few chuck peanut shells, and one throws his mug. Being IMC on Solace isn’t easy, but it has certainly been a long time since I’ve seen this sort of behavior. 

“You sick Son of a Bitch.” I spit at him. I turn on my heels and make a beeline for the door. One man starts to reach out to grab me, but I growl at him. “You touch me, you’ll wake up in the hospital tomorrow morning.” That stops him right in his tracks, and no one else tries to block my way. 

Walking out into the afternoon sunlight doesn't change my mood form the dark, dingy bar. I try to fight the anger rising in my chest as I try to navigate the streets back to my vehicle. Who the hell does Rocco think he is?

But it wasn’t that part that was making me angry. It was the realization that I may never make it back to Gridiron. I may never see my family ever again. The truth is, not only will I not be able to go back home, but I’ll probably never be able to make a new one here on Solace either.


End file.
